


In the Palm of Your Hand

by ragnarok89



Series: Crossovers [44]
Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Ending, Crossover, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Judge Me, Fear, Fear Play, Gaslighting, Gen, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inspired by Music, Kidnapping, Mindfuck, Nightmare Fuel, Non-Consensual Bondage, Not Canon Compliant, Obsession, One Shot, Other, Psychological Horror, Twisted, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnarok89/pseuds/ragnarok89
Summary: Oneshot. AU. “Tell me, has anyone ever seen you like this before?”





	In the Palm of Your Hand

Hotaru woke up with a start, her lungs desperate for air, her breathing ragged, stirring from oblivion.

She blinked; her vision was blurred and white, her thoughts slowed in a drugged haze. She whipped her head around, hearing chains rattling. She tried to move and felt something pull at her wrists and ankles, metal shackled.

"H... Hello? Is someone there?" She called out, her voice bouncing off, deafening, and ringing in her ears.

Soon she started to become more aware of her surroundings. She could feel that she wore a dress, one was loose fitting, but she felt that it didn't cover much of her chest from the cool air against her skin and there was some sort of bar in between her legs, holding them slightly open.

She flinched suddenly when she heard footsteps, one, two, three, four, and they were coming towards her.

"Who's there?" She cried, trying desperately not to sound too scared, but her voice croaked. She hated it when she was weak, she hated that about herself.

She felt eyes on her before she saw them. Suddenly the blindfold was taken off her. Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with rage and an unmistakable fear.

"You're awake. I was beginning to think I gave you too much anesthetic, Hotaru-chan." Muraki smirked.

"M-Muraki…" She questioned, her voice wavering, her eyes narrowed, hatred simmering and bubbling in her chest.

"In the flesh," Muraki chuckled huskily.

"Wh-What's going on? Why am I here? J-just tell me! Tell me now!" She raised her voice, the last words forming into a coherent shout. Even though she really didn't want to know, her mind and body just screamed at her to get out, to escape this madman. She tugged at the shackles that bound her, the metal searing and cold against her wrists, but to no avail.

"So many questions for such a young woman. First of all, I just thought I would show you my true face, what I am really capable of. That would scare you enough to keep quiet. But after what happened the last time I saw you..." He trailed off.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her heart thundering in her chest. She stared blankly at her captor; purple eyes widened and then constricted; her breath truncated and shallow.

"Tell me, Hotaru-chan… has anyone ever seen you like this before?" Muraki asked as he let one finger tilt Hotaru's chin up so that her eyes would meet his.

Hotaru shivered as the cool air hit her body, her cheeks growing hot and her knees turning to liquid. His silver eye bore into her. Against her better judgment, she let out a short laugh and shut her eyes. "No, not even in my wildest dreams. Even if that were true, it's none of your business, you pervert."

She then wished she hadn't said that. She had a feeling he would retaliate soon; such an outburst was startling even to her. She hadn't realized that she possessed such a sharp tongue.

Muraki let a low chuckle pierce the silence between them, a smooth and mocking noise that wrapped itself around Hotaru, a snake around her neck. It would have swallowed her if she hadn't shaken herself out of her stupor.

"What's so damn _funny_?" She spat out.

His eyes lingered on her longer than was comfortable. She bristled as she saw his glance trail down her chest.

"I'd be careful, if I were you," The doctor said. He gestured to the girl with his free hand, taking her in all the way down to her feet. They were standing near a window, and the waning moon bought out the glow of her silken white dress, as well as the smoothness of her skin. "Saying such words – accusing someone of perversion – when you're looking the way you are... You never know what might happen to a pretty girl out and about at night. But now you _do_ know, don't you?"

Hotaru flushed, the color visible on her cheeks, anger simmering within fear. "W-What?" she uttered, trying in vain to sound brave. Muraki practically fed upon her fear. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that you have proven to be one fascinating young lady. You have such potential. You have raw power that can devour the world, and you don't even know it yet."

She shut her eyes tightly as she felt the bar that was set between her ankles being released and pulled off, the clanking noise of it falling to the floor startling her. The sensation of her feet came back to her slowly but surely. Her ankles were marred by the pressure from the bar that held her still, but she almost let out a sigh of relief when she could move her legs.

Muraki let one of his hands slide up her leg and stopped in short of her hip. Hotaru felt herself trembling all over, and her breath hitched in her throat. He then pushed her up against the wall she was bound to, pinning her, like a predator to prey.

He towered over her shuddering, uncertain form, noticing eagerly how she shrunk under his gaze, just as she always had, ever since they first met. This was inevitable, as much as she refused to acknowledge the very notion, he knew that it was time for her to be his and his alone.

Hotaru squeezed her eyes shut as Muraki leaned in, his lips grazing her throat. Without warning, he reached up and released her wrists from the shackles above her; her arms limp and sore, her wrists aching and bruised, she faltered, falling right into his arms, her surprised gasp reverberating in the room.

Her form was like stone; heavy, scarred, and battered. She couldn't lift herself up when she realized her face was in the crook of his neck, catching the scent of cold sweat on them both. She could almost taste it on him. Her eyes dilated. The room seemed to melt like watercolor, save for the doctor. Muraki was all that remained, his pleased grin unearthing the innocence she once carried only to destroy it.

"You really have... no _idea_, Hotaru-chan," he murmured against her throat, drawing himself together.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in the dark and twisted spirit of this holiday– Happy Halloween!


End file.
